S h a r p i e
by Wenny T
Summary: DISCONTINUED AU and Contemporary Susannah Simon had been searching her whole life. And just when she thought she had found that one thing she wanted, needed, it was taken away from her... or so she thought. Tagteam
1. Prologue

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S H A R P I E

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**A/N: Hello, darlings! 'Tis Maddy and Nicole here.**

**Nicole: We have come to bring you a new fic. A TAGTEAM! Yep, that's what I thought. Now, you might want to review if you want more and some fluff...possibly a lemon...heehee. Ooooh, cheeese...**

**Maddy: -smirks- What she said. And the usual; should you not like the way the story is progressing, then you may flame, but make it a joke-y one. Remember, I like jokes. So does Nicole. Doesn't she? Hmm? –snickers- Hope y'all like this!

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_**Prologue**_

_**Suze**_

I had been searching for that one special person in my whole life. Someone to like me for who I am. Someone to help me in my time of need. Someone to lend me his shoulder when I'm down. Someone to be there when I need them the most.

And most importantly, someone to_ love _me.

When I was younger - about ten or so - I'd dreamt of marrying Prince Charming, with doves, trumpeters and a grand wedding completed with fireworks. The horrendous taste that had possessed in me in my formative years left - thank God - when I entered high school.

Then, I dreamt of meeting a "cool" guy - a punk, perhaps, with black eyeliner, piercings, tattoos and all. Oh, and a bike; a huge black and silver Harley would be nice. But anyway, I grew out of that phase fairly quickly - which, by the way, gave my mother unprecedented relief - and I dreamt of marrying . . . someone who was good and kind and loves me.

But my "search" didn't really start in earnest until my sixteenth year, when I moved to Carmel, California. My mother had gotten re-married and the (second) love of her live lived out there. I had to move from my home in Brooklyn, NY, just so I could live with three annoying stepbrothers. But it _did_ have its perks.

The guy my mom married, Andy, was an awesome cook. You name it, he could cook it - awesomely too, might I add.

I also went to a new school and met someone like me.

Okay, when I say that, I don't mean I'm batting for the other team or something. Not that I've any prejudice against homosexuals - seeing how I may have one for a step-sibling (Dopey: why else would he wear those wrestling sweats?) - but I'm as straight as a line that was drawn with a ruler.

But I digress.

Anyway, this person I was talking about before I went off-track - a bad habit of mine that I'm still trying to break - happened to be a man in his late sixties and a priest at that-- he was the principal of our - my stepbrothers and I - school.

When I said 'someone like me', I meant this: I see dead people.

Well . . ._ sorry_. Don't mean to go all cliché on you, but it's true. I'm a mediator. I see the spirits of the deceased. I see ghosts. And . . . well, it's not all that fun, actually.

Think Haley Joel Osment with Buffyesque fighting - God, I love that show; why did they have to cancel it? - and you've got it. But sadly, I didn't have someone like Giles with me.

That is, until I met Father Dominic, the priest and principal of Junipero Serra Mission Academy - the school that the Ackermans and I attend - who turned from merely an authoritarian figure and became more of a . . . _father_ figure to me.

I guess you're wondering where my father is in all of this. No, he didn't abandon me and my mom, if that's what you're thinking. Well . . . he died of a heart attack when I was six. I still see him from time to time - in ghost form, people - but I don't tell my mother that. She'd just send me to another shrink like she did back in Brooklyn.

Anyway, as I began to know and understand Father Dom, he became a very important part of my life. Sure, I lied to him sometimes - mostly about mediating and the exorcisms; the ghosties aren't going to leave when you tell them nicely - but he still meant a helluva lot to me.

I kept in touch with him even after I moved on to college; in fact, we still talk now, even though we're now right across America from each other. I made it a point to call him almost every week to update him on my life -and usually about the paranormal scrapes I get in- and visit him every Christmas/Easter/another national holiday whose name I'm too lazy to think of right now, just to see him and talk to him about new ghosts.

But sometimes we would stray from our usual mediating topics, and moved on to our personal lives... that was when he told me about what life was like when he was a kid.

He even told me (well, I figured it out when he started talking about a certain ghost back in the day) that he loved a ghost. It was kind of . . . weird coming from a priest. But, after it sank in, I realized that's _why_ he became a priest. Because he could never love again.

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I did rather well in college; was majoring in psychology. I went to the University of Northern California, _NoCal_ - as the locals call it. But as I started college, I realised that I was... lonely. Yeah, I had a roommate and everything. My best friend from NY, Gina, moved here after high school - and had a major crush on my eldest step brother - and became my roommate. I had friends and acquaintances in all of my classes; and you wouldn't find me at home on most Friday nights. But it wasn't that. 

It wasn't about my social life. It was the whole significant other thing.

Yes, I had a few boyfriends back in high school. But I never really saw them as someone I could love. As someone I could count upon should I have a crisis or something. To tell you the truth, I don't even like most of them; I just went out with them so I wouldn't seem like a loser.

But in my third year of college, I met someone. _The Someone_. He had already graduated college and was four years older than me. But when we met, I had a feeling... Like I knew he was different from the other typical, beer-guzzling, football-obsessive, Neanderthal guys I've dated; he was _special_ - and not to mention extremely H-O-T. I really don't know what he saw in me.

We met one night at the park. It wasn't like a blind date or anything - or anything remotely resembling a date for that matter. I was there mediating a stubborn ghost who wouldn't move on. He wanted revenge on his killer, and since the killer was already dead before he could get to him, he wanted to kill his assassin's girlfriend. Not the best of ideas, actually.

Actually, it was downright dumb. But then again, he was a guy, so... we can't blame him for his thick-headness now, can we?

So, like I said, I tried to get him to move on. Actually, I was at the park to get some exercise -_I_ had been cooped up in the house for nearly two weeks for my finals, and now that they were finally over, I had to get out of the house and quick. The flab on my thighs and stomach that I had worked so hard to get rid of by jogging thrice a week was slowly but surely coming back. _That_ I could not allow.

Anyway, as I was saying, there I was, minding my own business and trying to make my butt fit into my jeans again, and then all of a sudden, he showed up out of nowhere - literally - and began trying to pummel me. Well, sorry to tell ya, mister, but Suze is the last person on earth - or any realm for the matter - you want as your punching bag.

For one, this baggie punches back.

And yeah, I retaliated with a vicious right hook. But since ghosts heal quickly, he had an advantage over me. Soon enough, I could barely get a punch in. I was trying my hardest to defend myself from going down in the fight or chasing him away - whichever came first.

Somehow I had gotten thrown to the ground with the ghost on top of me. For everyone else, ghosts don't have matter; to a normal human, they have as much weight and sustenance as shadows, or sunlight. But to me they are real, they have weight, and most of all, their punches _hurt like hell_.

So I was pretty winded, with a 250 lb. ghost sitting on, straddling me. Alright, I could barely breathe. But jeez, you would too, if some weird, middle-aged and obese man jumps you and pins you to the ground. Anyway, I better get back on track.

So... just when he was about to pop me one in the face, someone pulled him off.

At first I was pretty relieved. I was saved from getting a serious black eye. But then I realized what happened. Someone, some_thing_, had saved me from a ghost. That means... he or she or _it _must be a mediator, right...?

I turned to the person - or whatever - that had saved me.

And when I looked him right in the face, I nearly passed out. _Oh. My. God. _He was ... he was _gorgeous_.

Tall, maybe about six foot two, with dark hair and dark brown eyes (I think) - it was rather dim outside, even with the streetlamp in the corner - and most of all, a killer smile, with white teeth and a dimple on his right cheek. Not to sound clichéd, but oh, I think I've died and gone to heaven.

"Are you okay, _senorita_?" he asked me, helping me up off the ground. God, his_ voice_... So silky and deep, and with the faint tinge of a Spanish accent too.

Call the presses now: Suze is actually, for once in her life, speechless.

As to his question, I could only nod dumbly as he, grunting a little with effort (Oh, God, I'm _FAT_!), finally got me up. But then I realized that my ankle must have been broken or twisted or something, because I fell right back down once he released my hand.

Oh, and note: I am never going to wash my right hand again.

"No," I grunted out in response. Oh, I am _so_ attractive.

He helped me up again, pulling me into him and placed my arm across his broad, sexy shoulders. Aaaah, I was in sheer bliss. Those muscles... I think I was experiencing a hormonal overdrive then.

Then I realized that I didn't even know this guy. I mean, I trusted him right _away_. But ... why? I usually never trust people. Hell, it took me over a year to finally trust Andy, even if he did make fantastic meals - that was partly why I began to trust him (no bad guy could ever cook that well).

So what was it so special about this guy - or rather, _senor_ - that made me feel I could trust him with even my life? That made me feel . . . _safe_? And all within a few minutes of meeting too. God, I am such a shallow and lusty bitch. Listen up, ye boys out there. It only takes a pretty face to crack Suze's defences and get under her skin.

He helped me over to a bench and sat me down. "Do you want to explain to me what happened, _senorita_?" he asked calmly.

Um, no. If I did he'd think I was a total nutjob and send me to that white padded room right away. And then I'll have to wear a straitjacket. _Yuck_. No, thank you very much. "Erm . . . I - er . . . no." I said uncomfortably. "Not really."

He looked at me from where he was checking my leg for injuries. He had sat me so my back was against the arm of the bench and my legs were on the bench, splaying straight out. He was sitting at the other end, by my feet.

I could already see the swelling in my leg. Great, _another_ hospital visit. Oh, Gina would be so pleased.

Thank God I had already moved out, or Mom and Andy would kill me when they see my . . . _trunk_ of a leg. God, I think my ankle has swelled to the size of a milk bottle. Not to mention that it _hurts_.

He laughed at what I had said. What? What was so funny?

I guess the confusion must have shown on my face, because he explained why he was laughing. "Well, I kind of do know what happened. I just want to know what provoked him."

Wait... _what_? Did that dead crackhead slammed my head so hard against the ground until my brain became scrambled like those eggs Mom loved for her breakfast or something? Because I did_ not _just hear what he had said. "E-excuse me?" I stammered.

He looked around quickly; making sure nobody was watching or listening. "You, _senorita_, are a mediator," he said bluntly, lowering his voice until I had to strain forward to hear what he was saying. When he noticed the shock on my face, he chuckled. "That's how I reacted my first time of finding out I wasn't the only one out there."

"No," I said. "I mean, I know I'm not the only one. Only mediator out there in the world, I mean. My high school principal was one also. But that's all I know," I admitted.

He gave me a smirk. "Your principal?" he asked, smiling.

I glared at him. "Yes, my _principal_. Who do you know that's one?" I asked. Then he touched my ankle where it hurt. _I_ sucked in a breath and tried to tamp down the tears that had risen suddenly in my eyes. "OW!"

"_Lo siento_," he apologized. "I'm sorry . . ."

"Suze," I said suddenly, realizing we never got each other's names.

He looked at me oddly, replying, "Perdón? Oh . . . I'm Jesse . . . but _Sooze_? Is that short for something? Susan, perhaps? Or Suzanne?"

"Susannah. You know, as in that song 'Oh, Susannah, don't you cry for me'," I said, smiling slightly at his expression of mild confusion. Who'd have thought that that the knitting of brows would look so... _adorable_? He looked like a little lost boy, asking for directions back home.

He smiled. "Ah, I know the song. _Mi madre _is very fond of it.

I smiled also. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Jesse. But I better get home now before my roommate freaks out."

He chuckled. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me what happened, Susannah," he said. Then he lowered his voice, "and . . . I should get your number too, don't you think?"

I giggled. Yes, _giggled_. Slap me now, please.

"Call me Suze. And okay," I replied, like a little girl. "Well, I came here to exercise," I began to explain, "and he showed up right behind me. I fought him a bit, but then he just got the better of me and then you showed up."

"Okay ..." he said. Then he looked down at my ankle, his brow creasing again in concern. I mentally swooned. "First of all, your ankle is broken. Second of all, tell me why he did that.A personal grudge against you, perhaps, Susannah?"

I shrugged and waved my hand, dispelling the notion. "I repeat, call me Suze. And nah, it was just that he wanted to kill his murderer's girlfriend and I wouldn't allow it. Simple as that. Oh . . . and how do you know it's broken?"

"So let me get this straight," he said. Then he got up and started pacing in front of me. "You wouldn't let him kill his murderer's girlfriend, so he snuck up behind you and started hitting you just like that, _querida_?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it," I said. Then I looked at my watch. 9:47pm. Shit. Gina will freak; I told her I'd be back by nine-thirty. "Can I go home now? My roommate'll send out search parties if I don't."

He looked at me, then down at my leg. "No," he replied in a no-nonsense voice. "I need to get you to a hospital. Your leg's condition is pretty serious,_ querida_."

And no matter how much I protested, he refused to back down and took me to the hospital. Luckily my apartment was right around the corner from the park, so I got on Jesse's car, and didn't have to worry about mine, as I had jogged there.

They admitted me right away - he told me that he worked there as a doctor later. I got a cast for my leg and some crutches. I also got stitches in my hand where I had punched the stupid ghost. God, this is what I get for trying to mediate?

They actually wanted to keep me over night, but I absolutely refused. I had to get back before Gina called in the National Guard or something.

Jesse drove me home and helped me inside. Gina was waiting right there when I got back. She was about to start yelling at me, but saw the cast and crutches and the hot guy helping me. "God, Suze, what the hell happened?" she demanded.

I looked at her and said, "I'll tell you later." Then I turned to Jesse. "Got a pen?" I asked.

He looked at me weirdly but grabbed a pen from his jeans and handed it to me. "Give me your hand," I said. He did so, giving me a weird look. Then I wrote my number on his hand with my left hand. It was a bit sloppy since I'm a righty, but he seemed happy nonetheless.

"Well . . . good night, then, _querida_." He smiled at me briefly as I closed the door, and my knees weakened. "Good night . . . wait! What's that . . ._ kay-ree-da_ or whatever it is that you keep calling me? What does it mean?"

I wrenched the door open again, but he was already gone.

And then I had a whole night's worth of interrogations from Gina to answer to.

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**A/N: (Maddy) Review, or I'll punjab you.**


	2. The Right Moment

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**S H A R P I E**

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_**Chapter I**_

_**Suze**_

_Dear Mr. De Silva: _

Due to your excellent recommendations by several college professors and hospital patients, we, the Board of Directors of the Armed Forces of the United States of America, have decided to enlist you as a military doctor for the United States Army.

_The position that we have reserved for you, should your answer be affirmative, is that of a military doctor's. Your duties consist of . . . _

_Please contact us with any questions regarding your position that you might have._

_Yours truly, _

_General D. Hoffman_

_The Army of the United States of America.

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"Jesse," I said, "please tell me this is just a joke." I set the letter down on the table nearby and looked him square in the face.

"_Querida_," he said. Damn, I STILL haven't figured out what that word means, and yet it makes me melt like butter in a frying pan. "It isn't a joke. But, please, you have to know that it is the right thing to do." Then he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me.

Stay strong, Suze. Don't melt . . .

Okay, I am officially a puddle of goo.

Damnit. Why is it that I can never resist this guy, even after four years of dating and making out?

Yeah, we've been together for four years. Pick your jaw up from the floor now, please.

He proposed to me late last year . . . on Boxing Day, actually. God, it was so romantic. Even after six months of being the future Mrs. Jesse De Silva, the memory could still make me melt.

But - uh . . . we still haven't actually _done it _yet. Jesse said to wait until we're married. Or wait until the right moment. But, really, when _is_ the right moment? Personally, every time I'm with him, it feels like the right moment. Er - well . . . that could also be because I am a horny 25-year old woman who hasn't had sex in 5 years. Yes, that could be it.

I hate to admit this, but his old-fashion consideration had me climbing the walls. Who waits for . . . well, their wedding night these days?

Okay, I'll admit it, I lust after the guy. But seriously, who wouldn't?

I mean, that smile, those eyes, those ABS . . . they were enough to make a girl swoon. And drool. And go completely nuts.

And they were all mine! Mine mine mine mine _mine_ . . . Ahem. Er, sorry; lost my control back there for a minute.

But anyway, back to reality . . .

I was still in Jesse's embrace, trying to resist his kisses. It really wasn't working to my advantage though. His kisses were like chocolate; addicting, delicious and something that I crave for almost every minute and second.

"Jesse," I said, breathing rather raggedly, "please."

He knew this was important; serious. So he unwrapped his arms from around me - albeit reluctantly - and sat me down next to him on the couch.

"_Querida_ . . ." He started hesitantly, staring down at the floor, refusing to meet my eye. "I . . ."

"You're going," I stated rather than asked. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," he answered, forcing himself to meet my gaze. His eyes were guilty, but filled with conviction too. "I have to go, Susannah. It's . . . well, it's a great honour, to serve one's country."

"Are you insane?" My breathing was starting to get ragged, but still I fought to keep my voice even. "Do you even know what this is, Jesse? I-It's a war. They're asking you to g-go serve in a _war_."

"But I won't be fighting, _querida_," He took hold of one of my hands and started to stroke my palm gently. "I'll be there as a doctor, only to care for the sick and wounded. I won't be at the front lines . . . It'll be absolutely safe for me. I wouldn't be anywhere near the actual fighting."

"But Jesse, just being _out there _isn't safe. Do you think the bombs have eyes for something? They could very well drop another Fat Man or Little Boy on the site you're working on!" I said frantically, saying anything, everything that could come to my mind that might just be able to dispel this . . . ridiculously noble notion of him going off to war. God, this wasn't the medieval era anymore; men didn't have to go fight in a war just to prove that they were brave, honourable, and just!

"Please, don't go," I pleaded.

"_Querida_ . . ." He started, but my lips muffled the rest of his sentence. I broke away from the kiss and hugged him hard. "Please, don't go. For my sake, don't risk your life there," I said against his shoulder.

"Susannah, think of all the people I'll be saving. Innocent civilians, men who do great service to their country . . . . If I go, there will be one more doctor, one more extra chance to ensure that they live. That they wouldn't die fighting for their country," he said. He hugged me back.

It took _so_ much for me to not cry.

"Jesse, what about me? I just . . . why is the idea of saving the world so important to you? Why can't you be a little more selfish and think about yourself? About our future?" My arms tightened around him. "About _me_?"

"Susannah..." Jesse went in this pained voice. God, why was he so foolish? So . . . _noble_? I felt tears starting to leak out of the corners of my eyes. "_Querida_," he coaxed, kissing my forehead. "I have the opportunity of a lifetime. I have the chance to save many lives. And . . . and I wish to do just that."

"But . . . I . . ." The tears started coming faster.

"_Dios_, Susannah, don't cry. _Por favor_. Please." He pulled away slightly and brushed my tears. I pulled away abruptly, mentally dreading what I was to say.

"Alright. You can go to Iraq to serve in the war." I wrapped my arms around myself. "Just . . . just take c-care of yourself, okay? I don't know what I'll d-do if s-something happens to y-you." Then I turned back to face him. "Just don't try and be a hero, Jesse; serve and come home."

"Oh, _querida_. I knew you'd understand," Jesse pulled me to him and started kissing me again. God, I love him so much.

"Jesse, wait." I pulled away from him again and raised my hand to his face, tracing my fingers lightly over his handsome, familiar features. "I want you to promise me something. Do _NOT_ try to be a hero. Promise me that. No matter what you do, place your own safety above all other things. I don't want you doing something foolhardy like risking your life to rescue others."

He kissed me forehead again. "I promise, _querida_."

"Good. T-That's... good. Now . . . where were we?" I flicked his hair away from his forehead, and trailed my hand down, running lightly over his strong, straight nose and coming to rest on his lips. I leant forward again and brush my lips lightly over his, noting the change of his breathing.

It was nice to feel so powerful; that even after four years, I could still affect him with a single kiss. And close-mouthed one too. I guess . . . this _is_ love.

"Querida, " Jesse said, his voice slightly huskier than before. He slipped his arms around me and pulled me onto his lap. (A/N: evil cackle) "You... you're not mad at me anymore?"

"Who says I'm mad? Did I even say I was mad? Hmm?" I ran my hand across his shoulders. God, I love them. His shoulders, I mean. All hard and tan and muscle-y . . . Mmhmm. Seems like all those helping out at his dad's ranch during summertime paid off. _Ooooh_, shirtless Jesse . . . I can just imagine him hauling stacks of hay or something; and then those muscles will glisten with sweat and--

BAD Suze.

"Besides," I whispered, while nibbling on his ear - an endeavour which had my dearest fiancé shivering with delight, "I can never stay mad at you for long."

"Good," he said, while wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer to him. My roaming hands decided to work their way under Jesse's shirt, feeling every inch and crevice. And then I smashed my lips on his, kissing him with so much fervour and zest, that it was rather overwhelming. "Susannah," he moaned against my lips.

Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?

When I broke away from the kiss, due to lack of oxygen, I realized that we had gotten a little - erm . . . horizontal. Eh, who cares?

As soon as I caught my breath, I dove down again for another mind-numbing kiss. Jesse groaned against my lips. Then I felt his hands snake up theback of my halter top. "Jesse . . ." I groaned. My hands happened to be under _his_ shirt, massaging his impeccable abs. Those yummy, scrumptious, washboard abs . . .

Erm . . . Suze, stop groping the poor man.

Then his hand was under the front of my shirt. Soon enough, I felt one of his hands rest on and cup one of my breasts. And - well, that kind of surprised me. Sure, we've done this before. But not as much as I would have liked.

And all I could think at that moment was: KEEP HIM GOING, SUZE!

So I removed my hands from his shirt and began tugging at the hem of it. The shirt, I mean. We broke away from our lip-lock to remove his shirt. It fell practically noiselessly to the floor. And then I gawked at the purely masculine chest in front of me.

Wow.

Now I know why _Troy_ was such a box-office hit.

I guess Jesse got tired of me ogling him, since he pulled me back toward him and kissed me hungrily. Mmm . . .

Jesse is really in the zone tonight.

He put his hands under the sides of my shirt and gently lifted it off of me - us briefly separating to do so. And then he un-clipped my bra, letting it hang on my shoulders. I shrugged it off and it fell to the ground, just like our shirts.

Uh-oh. Jesse's never done that before. He's removed my top, sure, but never my bra.

Okay, don't think negatively. Maybe he thinks this is the right time. Yeah, that's it.

And then Jesse was staring at my naked chest; admiring it, I guess. Yeah, guys have, in the past, stared at my chest. Not that I've had MUCH experience in the guy department, but I take that as a good sign.

"Like what you see, Jesse?" I said innocently, running my hands up and down his fine chest. He tore his eyes from my breasts to look at my face. And then a huge grin broke out across his face. Okay, I take that as a _very _good sign.

Then I felt something on my thigh, as I was leaning over him. It didn't register what it was at first. But when I realized what it was, let's just say I was VERY pleased with myself.

And before I knew what was going on, he scooped me up and brought me into his bedroom (we, sadly, didn't live together - Jesse said that it isn't 'appropriate' to do that out of wedlock). He set me down on his king size bed (hmm . . . this bed could be put to good use . . . ) and climbed over top of me. Meanwhile, I was still topless.

He planted a feather-light kiss on my lips. Then he trailed down my neck, leaving white-hot kisses in its wake. He continued down my collarbone, until he reached before my breasts. He looked up to my face, our eyes locking.

Then he kissed between my breasts and down my stomach, to my waist, his eyes on mine the entire time. I moaned from his touch. The things he made me feel were incredible. It was like . . . my skin came alive when he kissed or touched me. Like he was lighting a fire within me.

Incredible.

"_Querida_," he said raggedly, "you . . . you are so _bonita_." Now, I didn't know what that meant, but it sounded good, the way he said it. It sounded _very_ good, coming from him.

I take it as a compliment.

And then all of his confidence disappeared before you could say "More, Jesse!". He blinked at me from where he was.

"Susannah," he stammered, "I - uh . . ." He covered me with the sheet that he had. "We . . . shouldn't be doing this. Not yet."

I sighed, frustrated. "Jesse," I said, throwing the sheet off of me and pulling him closer. "Can you honestly tell me that you don't want to?"

He looked away from me, blushing. Ah, I see. "I-its not that I don't _want_ to, _querida_. We just shouldn't be doing this out of---"

"---wedlock. I know." I was about to lean up a bit and plant a very nice kiss on his lips, but he turned his head.

"No," he said. "I . . . Susannah . . ."

Okay, I was _very_ put out now. The warm, fuzzy feeling I had before disintegrated and was replaced with mild anger.

"_Querida_, I just don't want to take anything from you. You deserve better . . ." he trailed off. He got off of me completely, sitting on the edge of the bed. He put his face in his hands and groaned (but not in the sexual way he had before).

"Take anything from me? What do you --- _OH_ . . ." I said, realizing what he meant.

He still thought I was a _virgin_. Oh, how wrong he is. I mean, I'm not a slut. I don't sleep around. I've slept with two other guys before Jesse, because I thought they were right for me. The first turned out to be an asshole - he dumped me a few days after we had done it. The second was better, but then he cheated on me in the end. Jesse, though, he was good to me. I knew he wouldn't do that to me after we did the dirty, so to speak.

"Jesse," I laughed, coming up behind him, pushing my bare chest into his back. I kissed his cheek and said, "I . . .oh, how do I say this . . . ?"

"_Querida_, I think maybe you should go home now," he said. But he sounded disappointed almost, like he didn't really want me to leave.

I groaned angrily. "Jesse, look, I'm not - I'm not as pure as the driven _snow_, or however that saying goes." I put my hands on his shoulders to turn him around, but I really didn't need to, since he turned around pretty quickly.

"What?" he asked abruptly.

I sighed. "I'm not a virgin, Jesse. There, okay, I said it. I-I've had sex before. I mean, _God_, I'm 25, Jesse, you can't expect me to . . . to . . ."

He looked at me, confused. "_Querida_?" he asked questioningly.

"I've been with guys before, Jesse. It's the 21st century, for God's sake. It's _okay_ to do that before you're married. Its not considered a mortal sin anymore, Jesse," I explained. Where had those words come from though? They were just spilling out of my mouth. Hey, they sounded pretty good. If it gets Jesse to see it my way then I really could care less.

He looked at me, his face deadpan. "Susannah, I don't know---"

"Jesse," I said. "Look, I'm not making you do anything, but I'm trying to make you _see_ that this---" I motioned the 'us' bit. "---is okay."

I saw a faint smile appear on his face. _Good_, I thought, _he's starting to understand_.

"This is the right moment for us, Jesse, I know it."

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**A/N: Maddy here again. _REVIEW_, or... we won't write anymore fluff, lemons or limes of any kind. –snicker-**


	3. At Long Last

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S H A R P I E

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_**Chapter 2**_

_**Suze**_

"I . . . well . . ." The uncertain smile on Jesse's face widened into a mischievous one. "If you say so, _querida_. Your wish is my command."

I shrieked with surprise as he pushed me down onto the bed suddenly and dove for my neck. God, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that the boy -or man?- is a vampire. He certainly does -_Oooooooooooooh_- behave like one.But since he's decidedly alive . . . guess I'll stick with saying that he has a neck fetish, then.

"Not a virgin, huh, _querida_?" Jesse murmured as he alternated between bites and kisses on my neck. I could only moan in response, too caught up in the mixture of pleasure and desire he was weaving me into. "Guess I'll have to punish you then."

Okay...Jesse is very out of character. He usually doesn't get this way when he gets turned on.

Heh, I'm not complaining. I like this side of him.

"What methods would you be using, Master?" I asked in mock terror.

He whispered into my neck. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

I gasped as one of his hands slowly crept inside my jeans. It rested over top of my panties, torturing me.

I then turned my head and planted a big wet one on his lips. He left my neck and kissed back feverishlyhis remaining hand gripping my waist tightly. A moan slipped out my throat as we er... played a very vigorous game of tonsil hockey.

"Susannah . . ._ Te amo _. . . _Siempre _. . ." Jesse murmured hotly into my mouth. I broke off our kiss in response and did the thing he loved most-- earlobe playing.

"_Te amo_? _That _I understand... _Je t'aime _to ya too," I whispered into his ear and bit down on his lobe gently, inflicting a strangled groan from the man in question. I twirled my tongue into his ear, while my hands were busily trying to divest him of his pants too, but he resisted.

"Not . . . so fast, _querida_," Jesse managed to get out before panting under my . . . lavish attentions upon a certain part of his anatomy. "Want to . . . _savour_ . . . ."

His ear, you perv. What did you think I was talking about?

"Savour?" I asked, while giggling - his hand that was not in my pants traveled up to my naked chest.

"Indeed," he answered breathlessly. Then the hand that was in my pants slipped out and rested on the waist-band of my jeans, the other hand following suit. He slowly and surely unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them gently down my thighs.

"What ever happened to savouring?" I asked, a laugh playing on my lips.

He tossed my jeans aside. "Hmm . . . I'm still . . . _savouring_," he said with a grin. He very lightly rested his hands on my breasts, massaging them beautifully.

"Oh, really?" I giggled. I flipped us over so _I _was on top. I placed a kiss on his lips, trailing down his perfect chest and abdomen. Then I got to the waist-band of his pants, teasing the skin there with my tongue. When he shuddered from under me, I took that as a good sign. And then I did something I normally would _never_ do.

I unbuttoned his pants with my teeth.

Before you start laughing, I'm just letting you know: Jesse seemed to be turned on by it, if the bulge in his pants that had considerably hardened was any indication.

And then I pulled his pants off, not nearly as graceful as he had done with me. But he didn't seem to mind all that much. He was too busy attacking my neck again.

I abandoned his boxers for the time being and crawled back up onto his chest again. Mmmm, I can never get enough of it; tanned, toned, and that distracting... line of hair . . . I licked my way up it.

He continued with his gasping and moaning, helpless under me. Heh, guess I'm the one who wears the pants in this relationship now, no? His hand fisted in my hair and he muttered more stuff in Spanish; a common occurrence during our make-out sessions . . . and of which I absolutely do not understand. And he always refuses to tell me after our makeout sessions too.

Ugh, selfish man. Bet he's muttering dirty things about me.

"_Querida_, you're such a tease . . ." he managed to get out before I kissed him again. And that was when he decided to snatch the metaphorical pants from me.

I shrieked as he rolled me over and tugged down my panties. "Unfair---" The rest of my sentence was muffled as he found my lips again.

"Life . . . _querida_, is never fair," he whispered as he splayed his fingers on my stomach.

"Take off your boxers," I gasped as his fingers slid lower. My hands clenched on his shoulders, as I arched against him. "Now."

"As you wish, _querida_," he murmured, before divesting himself of the remaining article of clothing with one hand. His other was tangling in my curls . . . down _there_. My hands moved from his shoulders to his back, nails raking down it.

And then suddenly, I could feel him . . . hard, hot and heavy against my thigh. His fingers chose the very minute, to slip into me, and I was lost.

My breath caught in my throat, as I arched involuntarily into him, half-mad with need. God, the feelings he aroused in me... they were driving me up the wall. Figuratively, of course. I moaned again as his fingers did _something_ ...two of them; Oh my GOD... scissoring.

I raked my nails down his back, moaning as his fingers continued... whatever they were doing. God, for someone who considers living together before marriage a sin and all, he was remarkably uh, familiar with...conjugation techniques. I gasped again as his thumb pressed down, gently at first, then harder on my... most _sensitive_ spot. God, I think I'm going to die of pleasure.

"Jesse...Ahhhhh...Y-You...Ooooooooooooooh," I panted out an incoherent sentence, sinking my nails into his butt. Mmmmm, nice, round, tanned, and _Hot_ with a capital 'T'... His butt felt very, _very_ nice. I pulled him harder against me and breathed into his ear. "I w-want you... inside me. Now."

"I wasn't aware that you were in any position to demand anything, querida," He chuckled low in his throat and worked his fingers more uhhhh... vigorously. My mind went nearly blank with pleasure, and for the first time in five years I... you know. Climaxed. Came. Orgasmed. Had the Big 'O'. Er... experienced _Le Petit Mort_?

Yeah, whoopeedo. Break out the champagne now, Suze is finally getting some!

I lay there for a long time, sighing with contentment as Jesse withdrew his fingers slowly and splay them on my stomach. His hands moved up slowly until they cupped my breasts. Oh my god... I have never, ever orgasmed due to foreplay before.

Hmm... I've finally come to the consensus that my boyfriend is officially a Sex God.

I sighed again and rolled us over, smirking down at Jesse's surprised expression. I sat up and straddled him, sitting on his chest and linking my arms around his neck. "What?"

"Nothing... I just... aren't you tired, _querida_?" Jesse asked concernedly, reaching a hand up to brush my hair out of my eyes. but I could see the rising excitement in his eyes as I sat back a little, rocking near where his... um, you-know-what is.

"Am I tired? Hmm... that's self-explanatory. Does the sun rise from the west? Are piggies flying now?" I whispered before sinking down on him. A surprised moan was his answer. "_Nom-Nombre de Dios_, oh, _querida_," he managed to get out before another moan was wrangled to his throat, hands reaching out to grip my hips hard.

And then I began to move.

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The sun filtered into the room. It was blinding at first, as I opened my eyes, but they soon adjusted to it. By the looks of it, it was a nice sunny day in Carmel, California.

Yes, after I graduated college, Jesse and I decided to move back to Carmel, where I and he, coincidentally, grew up. Unfortunately, we didn't move in _together_. Oh, no, that was 'inappropriate'.

Le sigh . . .

I yawned and adjusted myself in the bed.

And that's when I realized I wasn't alone. I was _laying_ on _someone_.

Oh, my god. Did I get drunk last night and sleep with a guy? Oh, god, Jesse's gonna _kill_ me. But wait, I don't have a hangover.

Then who the hell is this under me?

I turned my head to see Jesse's gorgeous face.

Oh, right.

How could I have forgotten our previous _awesome_ night?

I don't think he was awake. He was breathing evenly and his eyes were shut. But . . . he still could've been awake.

Well... There was only a way to be certain of that fact. I braced myself over him and started dropping kisses all over his face. One each over his eyelids, one on the very tip on his nose, one on the centre of his lips... I was going for his left ear when his eyelashes fluttered and his eyes opened slowly.

"Good morning, querida," he said in a sleep-scratchy, sexy voice, and propped himself up with his elbows to kiss my shoulder. I giggled breathily like a sugar-high kid and snuggled closer to him. "Good morning to you too."

He wrapped me up in his arms and pulled me down until we were facing each other and lying on our sides. "Had a good sleep?" He murmured, nibbling at the little spot beneath my ear.

"I --Oooooh, that tickles. Yeah, I -Uhhhhhhhh- did." I panted out as he moved on to licking and sucking on my neck. Pressing myself closer, I moaned out, "And-- oh, yes, there-- I just --Mmmmmm-- remembered, tell me -ahhhhhhhh- what kay-ree-da ---Oh, GOD- means."

He chuckled. "How many times has it been that you've asked me that?" he joked. His lips lowered down onto my collarbone, making me just ever so turned on as he reached my breasts.

"I didn't _ask_," I said. "I _demanded_ - ahhhh." My eyes fluttered and my head rolled back. Soon enough, Jesse climbed on top of me and began pleasing me in so many different ways, that I can't even describe them - its not like you really wanted to know in the first place.

And then we started a whole nother round of what we did last night, if you catch my drift.

To be clichéd, I was in heaven. And I didn't even think about how much my morning breath must have stunk.

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**A/N:**

**Nicole: -snore- Gah, I am so tired. Let me sleep, Maddy.**

**Maddy: -huffs- _Fine_. See if I care. Anyway... ****Do review, all of you. Nice big lemon we wrote, no? So yeah, thank us in your reviews. -snicker-**


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